


You Break Your Own Heart In Half

by orphan_account



Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: A Little Silly A Little Melancholy, Allusions to Undiagnosed Mental Illness, Boundaries, Cuddling, Flirting, Fluffy and sweet, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marijuana, Mood Disorder Reference, Mood Swings, Non Explicit Conversation about Gore, PTSD references, Recreational Drug Use, THC, edibles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 20:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Slade makes Dick breakfast food.





	You Break Your Own Heart In Half

**Author's Note:**

> I... miss my favorite boys. There’s not enough sweet for them. So here’s something not totally sweet, but less dour and eek than the tag’s usual. 
> 
> Title: Skin and Bones by The Wind and The Wave

Dick lay sprawled on his back on Slade’s front porch. Flecks of blood cast a smattering of irregular, red dots across his green-tinged face. Slade cocked his head and leaned against his doorframe. He only meant to step out to fetch the mail, he wasn’t expecting a wilted vigilante on his literal doorstep. It was early, the sun spilled lax and low beneath a navy sky. Just as lazy, Slade was still in only a pair of briefs and a t-shirt, and he didn’t have an eyepatch. 

“You going to come inside, kid?” Slade asked, when Dick’s glassy gaze stayed wide and fixed to the porch roof rafters for a minute too long.

Dick heaved a sigh, shifting to shed his atrophy. “I was a whole person once,” Dick murmured, blinking up at the ceiling. “Now I’m scraps of needs and wants, patched together into a threadbare quilt.”

“Humph,” Slade offered. Slade’s soft scoff prodded the corners of Dick’s lips into a small smile. Like any resourceful man who knew how to stretch an inch across a mile, Slade pushed off the door frame. “Come inside,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the house proper. “We’ll get your blood sugar up.”

Dick sat up and grinned up at Slade, like a crack of lightning in its suddenness and brilliance. “Is the big bad wolf luring me into his home with the promise of sweets?” Dick cooed. Slade looked unimpressed.

“You’re mixing up your fairy tales.” Slade reached across the threshold to snag the doorknob. “You’re in, you’re out; decide now, the door closes either way.” Slade began to close the door in demonstration, but quick as a cat Dick scrambled inside. Slade shut and locked the door after him. 

When Slade turned around, Dick mustered the dignity to scramble to his feet. He waited for Slade, and then followed Slade as close as a duckling as Slade led him into a cozy den draped in furs and accented with mahogany. 

“Promises were made, deals were struck,” Dick crowed, methodically stroking a patterned throw blanket from where it draped over the overstuffed couch. Slade idly wondered how long it’d take before the kid’s facade cracked again.

“I’m a man of my word,” Slade said, leading Dick into the kitchen. Slade opened a pantry cupboard while Dick scoffed.

“When it suits you,” Dick spat, sharp enough to cut. 

Slade glanced at Dick. Then he decided that, that lick of anger scored Dick’s surface but didn’t qualify as a crack. He shuffled the cupboard around before procuring a opaque, white plastic, 4oz jar, which he tossed at Dick.

Dick caught it and popped the lid open. Inside, several, orange gummy bears nestled together. An unmistakable, skunky smell wafted, and Dick wrinkled his nose.

“Are these cannabis gummies?” Dick asked.

“What are you, a K-9?” Slade shot back. “Eat a few, I’ll catch up.” 

As Slade turned away to fetch a skillet, Dick muttered, “I will eat _one_.”

”Suit yourself,” Slade shrugged, pouring olive oil into the skillet before lighting a burner on his stove and leaving the pan to preheat. 

While Slade collected breakfast foods, Dick popped two gummies into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. 

“So, when you buy weed, do you show up to your dealer’s house with or without your katana?” Dick asked conversationally, hopping up on a countertop so that he could hover just above Slade. 

Slade cast him a withering glare, but obligingly opened his mouth when Dick prodded his pursed lips. Dick slipped three of the dosed candies onto Slade’s tongue, but his fingertips lingered even after Slade swallowed. And then Slade nibbled Dick’s fingers and Dick jerked his hand back with a warm smile. 

“You shouldn’t snack before meals,” Dick chided, brushing his thumb along Slade’s cheekbone. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”

Slade turned his face away and began cracking eggs and portioning sausage. 

An hour later, Dick lay across Slade’s lap on the couch with Slade’s face in his hands again, their crumb scattered plates picked through and abandoned on the coffee table. Slade had shucked his shirt, and Dick his pants. 

Dick traced the lines around Slade’s eyes and the planes of Slade’s orbital rims and jaw, and then he dug his fingers into the course hair at Slade’s chin. 

“Your face is so soft. You have the softest skin. I want to wear it,” Dick cooed, tugging at Slade’s beard. Slade grunted, but his grunt broke off into a faint snort.

“No,” Slade assured him. “You don’t want to.”

“Yes, I do,” Dick insisted, swiping his forefinger down the bridge of Slade’s nose. The touch left pinpricks of sensation on the pads of Dick’s fingers, or perhaps that was the THC. “You’d just grow a new one anyway.” Dick’s eyes grew wide, and he giggled. “Christ, could you even do that? Grow a whole new face?”

Slade glanced up at the ceiling, thoughtfully. “If you just skinned me, yes, and quickly.”

“Nah, whole face,” Dick insisted, languidly brushing the edge of his hand down Slade’s cheek to demonstrate an approximation of a knife slice. “I took your nose too.” That sent Dick into a fresh wave of belated giggles, which in turn, forced an amused huff from Slade. “Like that fucking game,” Dick elaborated, still snickering. “Snatched it right off.”

“Callous,” Slade chided, glancing down at Dick and bouncing the knee under Dick’s head pointedly. “Cartilage heals slowly.”

“Fine, I don’t need the whole thing. I’ll settle for your lips on mine,” Dick promised, hardly jostled. Slade cocked his head.

“I don’t have a knife on me—” he began, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Dick’s mouth fell open and then he shoved Slade’s head aside by his claw-like grip on Slade’s jaw. 

“Thanks, I hate it,” Dick retorted, releasing Slade and sinking into the sensation of sinking even as he remained secure in Slade’s lap. His vision swam as his eyelashes fluttered. “Never did take you for the type.”

”The type to cut my lips to spite my face?” Slade asked, bemused. He threaded his fingers through Dick’s hair and Dick moaned. 

Slade twitched in his briefs and Dick grinned, wide and sloppy. 

“Like Pavlov’s dog,” Slade muttered bitterly, adjusting himself even as Dick attempted to nose his crotch. “None of that, kid. You’re in no state.” 

“Yeah,” Dick assented, relaxing again so that Slade could shift Dick just a little further away from his arousal. “That’s actually what I meant.” Dick waved his hand vaguely. “The type to get high. You’re so anal retentive.”

Slade grunted. “I don’t buy it off a dealer,” he said, belatedly addressing Dick’s jab back in the kitchen. “It’s medicinal. Helps with the....” Slade waved his hand vaguely. 

“Oh,” Dick said, blinking. “You shouldn’t’ve shared. I don’t want to take medicine away from you—“ 

“Billy. They’re Billy’s, technically,” Slade added, leaning his own head back to close his eyes. He’d forgotten to snag an eyepatch, or even a glass eye. It didn’t matter; Dick didn’t care. 

They rested in silence for a time, sloshing in their vulnerabilities and intoxication. 

“I want to kiss you,” Dick finally murmured, blinking up at Slade.

Slade didn’t move but to grunt and then add, “I told you, kid, not while we’re like this. I could fuck you up and you’d let me and I don’t like that.” 

Dick shuddered. “No, I know. I’m okay with just wanting. I want to want to kiss you. Wanting to want feels good right now.”

Slade peeled open his good eye and glanced down at Dick. “You’ve got a mood disorder, kid. Stop hanging around older men and go to a doctor.” 

“That’s so unfair, Slade, and you know it,” Dick spat, bristling. “I don’t choose the attention I get.” 

Slade placed a hand on Dick’s hip and left it, weighty and covetous. “I know, kid.”

Dick relaxed again, for a while. But then Dick shifted, and then he nuzzled Slade’s thigh. Slade’s hand remained where it was, an anchor in the tumultuous seas of Dick’s heady, inebriated perception. 

“When’s Wintergreen going to be home?” Dick mumbled, breaking another comfortable silence. “I need to feel his mustache like I need my next breath.” 

Slade snorted, lifting his head and raising his eyebrows at Dick. “He’s due in the next couple of hours. You’re welcome to call him.” 

Dick crawled his hand up Slade’s abdomen, gliding his palm through the trail of hair there, before weaving his fingers into Slade’s chest hair. 

“I’ll find some other way to keep myself entertained,” Dick promised Slade.

Slade called Wintergreen. 

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a few Tumblr related requests I’m working on, so there’ll be more of my best babies soon :)


End file.
